


Shitty Motels

by extracelestial



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Comfort, Crying, Lonliness, Other, Sadness, heart problems apparently
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 14:43:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4225809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extracelestial/pseuds/extracelestial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's emotional stress finally catches up with him. His angel hears his silent pleas for comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shitty Motels

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea from a prompt I wrote from the shittiest end to a RP on Omegle. The asshole ruined the end of it by Cas stabbing Dean and telling him "If only there was someone who loved you." I lost my shit. I wrote a better version of that prompt. It's still pretty shitty. This is really generic, I just am trying to get back into writing. this will be the second thing I actually post on Ao3, but is my first finished piece. Enjoy my lovelies.

Dean had begun to get an ache in his chest. It was a strange phenomenon he didn't understand, but the strange, strangled feeling had begun to crawl up his throat.   
The motel him and Sam were staying at was pretty shitty. The walls were covered in an unidentifiable substance, and the beds were uncomfortable with barely susceptible covers, making Dean not able to sleep. The feeling in his chest that usually stayed on the back burners of his consciousness, until the lonely motel room had brought them back.   
Laying on the cheap motel bed had begun as just another attempt at remaining on the schedule of research, hunt, drive, acquire another shitty motel room to keep them sheltered for a couple nights, then sleep for about four hours before repeating the process all over again. This time, however, brought a hitch into Dean's plans for the night. Sleep refused to wash over him.  
With the tiresome routine plaguing his mid, Dean's mind wandered towards, what he deemed as, trivial emotional issues distracting him from the bliss that was sleep. Dean refused to have “chick-flick moments”, even within the confines of his own head. The ache dulled Dean's sense of time, and dragged minutes over his body like scratchy comforters you know hadn't been remotely near a washing machine in decades.   
Dean remained in this state for some time. The motel room was still shitty, Sam was still Sam, and Dean was still lonely. The life of a hunter left no room for any sort of 'apple pie life', not even some of the whip cream on top. This life offered no comfort for a lonely hunter that had, arguably saved the world more times than he could count. Dean wanted a vacation. A chance to do something that didn't involve a dreary existence that revolved around death and destruction.   
Sure Dean and Sam saved peoples lives on a regular basis, but when did they get a vacation? Even just enough of one, to fill the void in Dean's chest, if only for a moment.   
Sighing, Dean brought his sheet up further to enclose his face within total darkness and silence. Sam's slight snores were drowned out, but the pounding within Dean's chest seemed to spasm violently without that sound of human contact. Dean's throat began to squeeze in a way of announcing the oncoming wave of tears, but Dean choked them back. His heart gave one final tug and Dean removed his head from the all encompassing cocoon.  
The startled gasp Dean gave at seeing and hearing the arrival of his angel, only seemed to add to the frantic buzz within him. Dean's stomach clenched in discomfort, his throat tightened in an effort to force Dean's tears to fall, and his heart beat faster to inform Dean that he was having a “chick-flick moment” whether he wanted to or not.   
Castiel stepped closer to where Dean lay, and whispered his usual greeting of “Hello Dean.” Instantaneously, the ache in Dean's chest turned into a soft throbbing, but his throat continued to choke him of his breath and his stomach now introduced a flurry of activity that almost had Dean scared of what was happening to him. Castiel tilted his head in question, when Dean hadn't answered him in the allotted time befit of normal conversational flow.   
Fearing that he would sob out his words if he answered, Dean managed a half-assed grunt that signified acknowledgment. Castiel's brow furrowed in further confusion of Dean's state of discomfort.   
“Dean, are you well?” the angel's rough raspy tone broke through Dean's protective wall of bullshit, wrapping around it and beginning to tug it away, but not without flooding Dean's mind with what he wanted. He wanted so much, but knew it was impossible.   
His angel stretched a hand to touch Dean's cheek, wiping away the silent tears that had begun to flow long before. In a voice too soft to be thought of as an angel of the lord, Castiel asked “Dean, tell me what it is that burdens you like this? His finger's had brushed beneath Dean's eyes, taking with it straggling salt water drops that had treasonously fallen on Dean's stubbled cheeks.   
Dean leaned into the palm that now rested on his face, providing a divine warmth that Dean had never felt before. It soothed his burning throat, but the riot in his stomach still would not calm down. Dean's heart clenched in a way that Dean suspected was a way of holding on to this feeling, of Castiel's warm hand on him face. Dean finally spoke, but it was laced with a tiredness so deep that even the angel had trouble understanding how Dean could still be moving. “Cas..”   
The warmth spread from Dean's cheek down his neck and into his chest, where the ache was no longer actively making Dean miserable, but where a fluttering was making Dean calm and content. 

Castiel smiled softly down at the Righteous Man. His Righteous Man. Castiel's grace flowed lightly around Dean's person to soothe him into sleep. Dean's eye's closed slowly, his stubbornness apparent when his lids kept flickering back open in an effort to struggle. The angel's slight chuckle was the last thing Dean heard before he drifted off into a comfortable dreamscape.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that wasn't too boring, and was't too redundant in some places. Whatever.   
> Thanks for reading, and hope to get good reviews, or reviews at all, but that's beside the point. I hope you guys enjoyed. Until next time, lovelies.


End file.
